Just One More Box
by valele
Summary: One-shot, Smitchie. Mitchie and Shane are finally living together, and Mitchie worries about what might happen now.


**I wrote this a while ago, but never put it up. It's by far the most "mature" fic I've ever done, meaning it's about sex. It's not any more explicit than my other fics, so all you get is some smut, but it still mentions it, so if you don't like that, don't read it. And yes, Kana, this means you :P. Oh, and so everything makes sense in this fic, Mitchie was 17 when they first started dating, okay?**

"Shane, can you help me with that box?" I ask as he walks out of the apartment. He grabs the box and I can't help but notice how strong his arms look. It's finally moving day, and Shane and I are working on getting my stuff into his apartment, and even though we've been working all day, we still have a couple of boxes left.

"Wow, Mitch, you have a lot of stuff," he comments as he walks past where I'm putting my stuff on the shelf he'd cleared for me. I stick my tongue out at him and he grins at me.

It took a while, but I've finally convinced Shane that we were serious enough to movie in together. I knew it isn't that he doesn't want to, but that he's worried how it might affect our relationship. I'm sure Caitlyn doesn't mind me leaving the apartment all to herself, though. Now she has an excuse to move in with Nate, doesn't she?

So now here we were, three years after we started dating, moving in together. It wasn't like we'd never actually slept over at each other's places, and we had lived together, sort of, during the many Connect 3 tours Caitlyn and I joined them at. All in all, I'm not going crazy because we were moving together, but I'm kind of worried about what might happen now. I mean, we'd be living together 24/7 now. It's almost like we're married!

Okay, yes, I'm worried. So we haven't had sex yet. Big deal, right? It is, actually, and I was thinking about it more now than ever. I mean, we've been dating for three years, and we've come close many times.

I have to admit, a part of me has wanted to do it for a really long time. Because three years it a _lot_. But then again, Shane is always such a gentleman that I didn't want to say anything because I knew he was proud of himself for not pressuring me into anything.

I'm not making any sense, am I? I'm deep into my thoughts, working on putting things on the shelf mechanically when Shane's arms around my waist and his lips on my neck bring me back to reality. I let myself relax against his arms, surprised, even after all this time, of how comfortable I am with him.

"Guess what?" he says while spinning me around so I'm facing him.

"Hmm?" I ask dreamily, my head against his chest.

"You're almost officially moved in," he answered. I look up to see him smiling at me, an incredulous expression on my face. Was that really it? Bring in a couple of boxes (well, more than a couple, but you get what I mean) and I live with him now?

He senses something is wrong, because he pulls me tighter against him, laying soft kisses all along my jaw line. I guess I tensed up, because I relax again, letting him kiss me while playing with his hair.

Not too long after, I pull away for some strange, unknown reason. Honestly, who wouldn't want to make out with Shane? But I pull away and resume my work. Shane, being the amazing boyfriend he is, accepts my decision quietly and goes into the kitchen. After a couple of minutes during which I can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, he comes back into the room, and leaning against the door, asks: "What do you want for dinner? I'd love to make you something special to celebrate you're moving in, but I'm so tired right now I can only think of ordering pizza."

"Yeah, pizza's fine," I mumble, barely looking up before looking down again.

"Mitch, is something wrong?" he asks, sitting down on the couch by the shelf.

"I just… I'm confused, I… It's just… Are we… I mean… do you…" I trail off, not having said anything useful, and keep working. By now, I'm done with the shelf, and I'm just rearranging the stuff so I don't have to move from where I am.

"What is it?" he asks, looking at me worriedly.

I take a deep breath and ask before I can chicken out: "Are we going to have sex?"

He looks surprised, kind of taken-aback. "I don't know, do you want to?"

I look at him skeptically. "Well, we've been dating for so long, I figured it'd have to happen sometime, right? And I want it to, but whenever we come close, you say we shouldn't, not yet, and you seem so proud of yourself for that I feel like I shouldn't say anything so I don't burst your bubble," I take a deep breath and run across the room to the other couch there. I put my head in my hands, and not too long after, I feel Shane sitting next to me and his hand on my back, rubbing it comfortingly. I look at him, wondering how he reacted to my outburst, too see him laughing quietly.

"Shane!" I exclaim, outraged he'd laugh after what I just told him.

"I'm… sorry… Mitch… it's… just… I… always… thought… you…" he starts, breathing heavily after laughing to much at me.

"I what?" I ask, still somewhat frustrated he sees this whole situation as funny.

"I just always thought you didn't want to… I just figured you didn't want us to yet," I giggle when it hits me how ridiculous this whole thing was.

"So do you want to?" After I nod, he continues. "Well, I want to, too. What does that mean?"

I could tell he really, really wanted us to have sex, but I decided it wouldn't hurt to play hard-to-get after all he made me go through. I stood up, stretched my arms carefully so he could see a bit of skin, then walked to the kitchen.

"I'm hungry," I declare, looking through the refrigerator. I can imagine Shane's confused look at he tries to figure out what just happened. Soon after, I hear him walk into the kitchen.

"But, I thought we were going to-" he stops when he sees me shaking my head.

"Later," I say, trying not to laugh. "I'm hungry," I repeat. I take out the ingredients to make something to eat as he stands there, looking astonished. I guess he's enough of a guy to want to eat as much as he wants to have sex, because not much later, he's setting the table and making some salad.

During dinner, I can feel him looking at me, still somewhat confused as to what has been going on tonight. That means my plan is totally working, then. I smile alluringly at him, thrilled it's all working out so perfectly.

After dinner, while I wash the dishes and he dries them, I think about what we were going to do soon. I was happy, I really was, and the butterflies in my stomach were proof of that – but at the same time, I can't stop feeling nervous and worried.

To calm down, I try to focus on the dish I was washing and nothing else. I guess I must have been staring at it pretty intensely, because Shane notices and says: "You know, no matter how intently you look at that plate, you're still going to have to scrub it to clean it."

I laugh nervously while still scrubbing the plate. Shane guesses something is up and takes the plate from my hands and sets it down on the counter. He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me so I was looking at him.

"Okay," he starts, seeming determined to get whatever information he wanted out of me. "You've been acting weird all night. What's up?"

Having given up my plan to plan to play hard-to-get a while ago, I decide it'd be easier to just come out and say it. I look at him, marveling at how trusting his eyes looked, and mumble: "I'm nervous."

Shane puts his arms around my waist, bringing me closer to him, and kisses me gently. I kiss back, not even thinking about it. Whatever his plan was to help me forget about being nervous, it was working. The kiss goes from gentle to passionate in less than ten seconds, and soon enough, we are too into it to remember what we'd been doing before.

Somehow, we end up at the bedroom door, Shane struggling to open the door without breaking our kiss. By the time we're on the bed, my shirt was off and his was, too.

I pause, looking at him. He kisses my neck again and whispers: "You're not still nervous, are you?"

I respond by taking off my sweatpants, and pulling down the waist band of his jeans a bit.

_This is it,_ I can't help but think as we undressed completely.

You know, I don't think I'm very comfortable sharing all these intimate details with you guys… How about we just say it was great and move on?

But just so you know, that one more box we still hadn't opened - it was long forgotten by then.


End file.
